


Stories Of the Masks

by OMGZpeanutbutter



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: Multi, Rami x Charlie? (Not sure yet i'll burn that bridge when I get to it), Violent, light relationships later on, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-07 00:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12222135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMGZpeanutbutter/pseuds/OMGZpeanutbutter
Summary: Every operative had their mask, and every mask has it's storyA series of 1-2 chapter long short stories, detailing the members of 50 blessings and their tragic demises





	1. Tony

**Author's Note:**

> Well I haven't done this in a while. I plan to finish Tony's story this weekend and then start on another that will only be one chapter.

Every operative had a Mask, every Mask had a story.

Tony

Tony wrapped bandages tightly around his hands and wrists, he clicks play on his walkman, suddenly blaring the distorted guitar chords of Welcome to the Jungle into his ears. After pulling the face of a tiger on over his headphones, he bashes in the front door of a seemingly inoffensive diner with a hefty kick. A loud THWACK is heard, bouncing the door back into his face. It would have hit him, had he not already descended onto the man on the other side of the door. With a blur of movement, Tony was on him with a knee to his chest, and not a second later his fist was crashing into the dazed man’s throat, with a close follow up into his nose. The weak cartilage moves almost without resistance and caves into his face. As soon as Tony gets up, he sees three men in matching attire; white suits with blue undershirts, barge into the large open room from the kitchen while screaming in Russian. They see Tony standing in the doorway, his white tank top and bandaged hands now lightly decorated in blood.

He looks up at them, the mask of the tiger striking fear into the hearts of the wastes of oxygen in front of him. After their brief moment of hesitation, they come to, one picks up a bat that was leaning in the corner, while the other two draw knives from their open suit jackets. Tony lunges forward and vaults the small counter that acted as the only division between them. Because of the narrow space the 4 are in, two of the men stand almost shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the masked intruder to come to them, while the third trails behind, visibly shaking and unsure what to do. Tony dashes to the two men in front

_‘Easy pickings. Amateurs.’_   Tony thinks as he sends a kick through the air that connects with the one on the left’s jaw, the other swings his bat from over his head, trying to strike Tony. He easily dodges it, pushing against the counter. He notices that it’s a massive stove, and presses the igniter before stepping back and grasping the now dizzied man’s bat, jerking it from his hands and bashing the hilt at the bottom into his temple several times until he collapses to the ground, blood pouring because of the bludgeoning. The man he kicked a moment ago regained his balance and rushed at Tony with his knife brandished. He moved to the side of the counter and bent his knee up so that his new target threw his chest into it. After colliding with his knee, tony shoved him against the stove and pushed the man’s face down into it until he stopped screaming. He let the now motionless body slump to the floor, and turned to face the last of the three guards.

“Where is it?” Tony muttered.

The man shook, and didn’t say anything back. Tony took a step and eyed up the man. Clearly a kid, no more than 19.

“I said, where is it.” He spat through clenched teeth.

Yet again, the man didn’t utter a word. Tony reached out and shoved him into the wall so hard that he bounced off it, flailing his knife at tony. He gripped his wrist tightly and rotated it, breaking the limb. The boy screamed, and tried to pull it away.

“I’ll ask this one more time. _Where_. _Is_. **_It_** ”

“Я хочу домой!”

Tony realized that he could barely hear him over his music, he sighed and cocked his fist back, and hit him once in the jaw. The boy’s frail frame did a full 180 and he fell to the ground. Probably not dead, but Tony didn’t care.

He walked to the door the three had rushed out of, and pushed through it. Inside the room was an office with two small desks, one covered in guns, and the other had nothing but a leather bound book that was lying open ‘The ledger’ thought Tony. He picked up the book and one of the hand guns on the other table and left the building.

After driving to the alley given to him on his vague instructions, he places the book in the box stated on the paper. The one with the big sunrise on it. He sits down in his car and pulls off the tiger mask, setting it on the passenger seat with his walkman and the handgun he stole. Slowly, he takes the bandages off of his hands, massaging his bruised knuckles before pulling a cigarette out of the glove compartment and lighting it with a silver zippo with a golden tiger on it. He takes a long drag off of it and lets it out with a sigh. ‘ _They’re really dead… god that was a rush_.’ He smiles slightly and picks up the gun, inspecting it. He had never held one before, it was far heavier than he was expecting. But even without seeing one in person, he knew what this was, An M1911, or rather, a shitty Russian version, a TT-33, he thinks it’s called. He fumbles around with in his hands for a few more moments before throwing his cigarette out the window and setting the gun in the compartment at the bottom of his door. He turns the ignition and drives off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dennis's story.

Dennis nervously twirled his butterfly knife in his hand. His task was relatively simple, stay out of sight until a black van filled with people dressed nicely in it pulled up, wait for them to go into the restaurant he was standing by, and after they were all in go slash the back tires. The job’s simplicity didn’t exactly soothe his nerves. In fact, they only worsened when the van pulled up, and half of the people had guns they didn’t even bother to hide. As soon as they were out of sight, Dennis stuffed his hands into his pockets and started to walk towards the van, glancing to the door to make sure everyone was inside the building. Once he reaches the rather intimidating car, he pulls out the knife and stabs one of the tires, and quickly crosses to sabotage the other, as he pushes the decorative blade into the rubber, he hears shouting from the Alley he was waiting in.

_ Oh shit. _

“Идиот! What are you doing!” A thick Russian accent yells.

 

Dennis doesn’t take the time to answer, and sprints across the street, The man unleashes a hail of bullets at him at him, one of the shots catching his calf, causing dennis to stumble, and crash through the door of the adjacent store. Lucky for him, it was empty, he limps to the back, falling onto the ground behind a counter covered in beverage dispensers. He pulls himself up and leans against the counter. Before getting the chance to inspect his wound, he hears a crash at the front, and sees three men with guns had just kicked in the doors to the store. Not sure of what to do, Dennis draws his knife and waits behind the massive coffee dispensers, if he was gonna die in the store, he wasn’t gonna go down without a fight.

 

4 Days Ago

 

Dennis shot up from his sleep, something must of startled him in his dreams. He looks around, he’s on a couch, in a trashy apartment, but not his trashy apartment, there’s a large glass tube filled with water on the small table in front of him, one can only assume what that is. Most people would be concerned waking up in a strange house, but at this point it was just a normal sunday for dennis, some people go to church, others wake up with a hangover and have to figure out where they are. 

 

He stands up, stretching, and grabs his shirt off of the counter and slips into it. Glad to see his keys are still in his pocket, he walks out the front door, and leaves to go find his bike. At his apartment, Dennis finds an envelope on top of a brown parcel on his doorstep, curious, he brings it inside and sets it on the table. The address on the letter is handwritten, no return address or stamp. Someone set this on his door step. Inside the envelope is a hot pink sheet of paper;

 

“ _ Thank you for subscribing to our newsletter! We appreciate your interest in our cause. America is a tune. It must be sung together. -50 Blessings"  _

 

Some harmless patriotic bullshit he must of signed up for while drunk with George and Ted. Inside the parcel however, told a different story. There was a rubber mask that looked vaguely like a wolf, a switch blade similar to the dozens he owned, and A piece of paper

 

_ “Your target will be a black van outside of ‘Hotel Blue’ on NW 151st place. After the occupants are out of sight, you are to slash the vehicle's tires and leave without being noticed. Be there by 10 AM on May 13th” _

  
  


Dennis tried to stand up tall, despite the bullet in his leg. The Russians were slowly making their way towards him, just as one was about to reach his cover, a gunshot rang out, everyone, Dennis included, looked to the door. Someone was standing in the doorway, aiming the still smoking handgun, everyone obediently following its direction to end at one of Dennis’s attackers, who was on his back, clutching a hole in his throat very similar to the one in Dennis’s leg. The sound of the man gurgling on his own blood flooded Dennis’s ears, he had to fight off the urge to vomit. As if on cue, the man at the door threw the gun at one of the other men, knocking him onto the ground, and dives at the other, grasping onto the side of his head and slamming it into the shelves next to him, he hits the now unconscious man into the corner of the shelf several more times, until the side of his face has a massive indent in it, and one of his eyes has been reduced to a pile of mush in it’s socket. He turns to the one he threw the gun at just as he’s getting up, he plants a kick on his shoulder, knocking him back down. Dennis’s saviour picks up the gun he walked in with, and falls onto his knees on the man’s chest, He forces the barrel into his mouth, and pulls the trigger 3 times, the back of his head and whatever was inside now painting the the window of the store.

  
  


Dennis falls backward, now starting to lose color in his leg and face, The man, who he thought had saved him, was now crossing the store, Letting dennis finally get a good look at him. He was tall, well over 6 foot, wearing a dark jacket with a white B imprinted on the front. Over his face was a large, rubber Rooster mask. It’s the last this he sees as he plants a bullet in Dennis’s skull, Too.


	3. Rami and Charlie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you say write something in less than an hour and not proof read it? cause that's what I heard.

Rami and Charlie 

 

“Eighteen, Nineteen, twenty...” Rami counts, making sure every round in his automatic is accounted for. “Twenty three…” He always made sure he had everything before an operation. 64 rounds of 5.56 in his own 2 custom extended magazines, A normal kalashnikov mag, incase he needed to pick something up, and his personal favorite, his Bataan-71, which he cut the barrel off of, with 6 loaded rounds and a side mounted shell rack, holding another four. He kept his shotgun, or sweeper as he affectionately dubbed the gun, on a strap at his waist, incase it’s ability to tear someone into pieces was needed at a moment’s notice.  “Twenty eight, twenty nine” 

 

“Will you shut the FUCK up!” Charlie yelled, making rami drop both his magazine and the remaining rounds in his hands onto the floorboard of the car.

 

“What the hell, lee!?” Rami scrambles to pick up the dropped bullets from the floor. 

 

“I’m sick and tired of you always counting!” Charlie was not a fan of how prepared Rami liked to be. She thought it it took the ‘fun’ out of the jobs. She was also opposed to guns, ‘too easy’ according to her. 

 

“Look. We go over this every time. We are going somewhere where the people there will KILL US. Forgive me if I’m not as psychotic as you are.” Rami had a point. Charlie served in the 54th regiment, a part of the ghost division, her entire platoon either died in combat, were thrown into a military prison, or were dishonorably discharged for the acts they committed in Hawaii. They were known for being particularly brutal, almost savage in the way they attacked. Lone soldiers would take entire complexes with nothing but a couple bullets and a knife. One time Charlie’s knife got stuck in a wall, so she bashed a soldier’s head in with a kettle filled with boiling water before getting it out.

 

“What is the point of going out and doing this if you’re gonna treat it like a test in high school?” She asked, putting the car into park.

 

“This it?” Rami say, dodging the question. Charlie nods.

 

Rami pulls a bag onto his back and slams the magazine into the rifle between his legs. They both get out of the car and pull on their masks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually hype af to keep writing this I'm really enjoying where these characters are going.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts!


End file.
